


this fire in my skin

by byronicmaiden



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: F/F, Obsession, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 23:25:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12781911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byronicmaiden/pseuds/byronicmaiden
Summary: Isabel's thoughts on the woman who spared her continue to spiral out of control.





	this fire in my skin

She had to carve one out of a newspaper clipping to get a photo of the woman who spared her life. Wonder Woman, they were calling her. No one seemed to know her real name, or who she was or where she came from. But those were the least of Isabel's questions.

Her question was why she hadn't killed her.

The photo, messily cut, rested in between two fingers. She stared intently at it, like she was trying to read something, studying the woman's face, her almond eyes, like smoldering soot, her hair, thick and curly and shining. Not like Isabel's, gone wiry and stiff from chemicals, falling out like a corpse. Something flared in the pit of her belly, like a match being scraped along her insides and ignited. She felt like she'd swallowed a rose and was being pierced by thorns.

The woman had spared her. She hadn't killed her when she could've, when she should've. No one had ever done that for her before. She was spat onto the Earth an ugly mistake, an afterthought that God forgot about and she'd been waiting to die ever since. She had been alone her entire life, traveling unaccompanied.

But the Wonder Woman hadn't seen her as that. She didn't kill her when she could've, and she couldn't decide if she was thankful or angry.

Wasn't it her right to get to die? Didn't she at least deserve that? Couldn't she make one damn decision herself? The woman should've killed her, smashed her to pieces like an insect.

But she hadn't killed her, and now she had to live with that.

She flicked on a burner that emitted a shrill squeal then ignited. The woman was beautiful, like a perfectly preserved statue of Athena. And she was poor, forgotten Medusa.

The photo was almost in the shape of a messy heart. How ironic. She raised it to the flame, let it ignite slowly, let the orange climb around the paper and char the sides, flames swallowing hungrily. She kept the burning photo of her savior in her fingers until it crumbled in on itself and disappeared into a cloud of smoke and a pile of ash.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from hellfire from the hunchback of notre dame.


End file.
